I’m driving down a road. My wife is sitting back sleeping in the passenger's seat. She looks beautiful, like an angel resting on the clouds of Eden. I look at my son, and he's in the back seat crying. I yell at him, “ SHUT THE F*** UP! You're gonna wake up your mother.” The little f***er doesn’t listen. But it’s okay. I can feel his pain. I understand it. I’ve lived with it my entire life. But he needs to learn to be respectful of his mother’s slumber. This road seems endless. I don’t know where to go. I feel trapped by my own thoughts. They’re telling me I should just drive till the road ends, but I ignore this thought and stop the car. I grab my son from the back seat and break his nose. I tell him, “Listen! you need to stop f***ing crying, you little s***.” He stops crying, but I can still tell he is sad. I’m running low on gas, so I stop at the nearest gas station. I look at my son and tell him, “I'll be back soon, I’m just going to fill up the car.” I get out of the car and I leave it filling for 5 minutes. I end up needing to use the restroom. I’m in some bad part of town. I open the passenger side door, unlock the glove box, and take out my 44. Magnum. Sniffling, my son says, “Dad can I get twizzlers?” I tell him, “Sure.” I go into the gas shop and as I pay for the twizzlers I notice that the clerk is staring at me awfully suspicious. What the f*** is his problem? I say to myself. He gets his phone--I grow scared, pull out the revolver, and I burst out a shot. His head goes flying back into the cash register. I can still smell the remains of the last dying ember of his cigarette as it lies on the man’s brain intestine. My son is running out of the car.  Dashing out of the store, I put him in my sights. He’s getting farther and farther away…  I pull the trigger and he gets hit. The moment I hear the bullet fly out of my barrel, I realize the mistake I have made. I run to him and yell, “NOOO!!” When I reach him I tell him calmly, “It will be alright.”  But he was gone. The only thing left of him is the lead from my bullet embedded in the back of his skull. Even like that he looks like angel. I look at my wife and at the three bullets left in my chamber. I walk into the bathroom and someone has spraypainted the words DEAD END on the wall. At that moment I realize what I have to do. I walk back to where my son and my wife are. I get into my car, put the gun against my temple, and go to sleep.